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Talk:Nova/@comment-25065826-20150111094642
Tom looks over my shoulder. I can't let him see this. I put the phone, screen down, in my lap, and as Tom persists I end up screaming at him. "TOM, STOP! I CAN'T LET YOU... I...". I now notice Hannah has slowed down to a single figure speed, and is asking for my phone. "Hannah, I can't... You...". I stop. I can't say anything. My phone comes to life again, pinging constantly as more photos come through. I can't face looking at them. And then, sirens break through the heavy silence. Hannah turns back to the road, stomping on the accelerator and driving at over 100 mph, narrowly avoiding plant and animal life in the hurry. "Guys! We're going to need to fight them eventually!" Hannah shouts. Then, Emma. "They have guns." She says, looking out the back and saying calmly that we are all probably about to die. After a few minutes of driving, Hannah reaches a main road. Turning down it, she drives fast. Too fast. The police are in about 8 cars, all with three people in. All with a rifle. And then, disaster. The car... stalls. Hannah curses so loudly, the police would have found us a mile away. And Emma says something else. "They're firing!" Bullets appear from nowhere in the glass, shattering the windows and clunking off doors. They get through the back of the car, littering the back with tiny metal pieces, and Emma tries making an energy shield, to absorb the force of the bullets. It only works some of the time. She can, however, warn us of another energy source. "GRENADE!" Suddenly, everything slows. A chunk of metal flies past my window. And as it hits the top of the tire, the boom shakes me. And the car. The vehicle we're in is flipped onto it's side, rolls onto the roof and slams into the ground, landing on its side. And the engine catches alight. Smoke quickly floods into the front seats. "Get OUT!" I scream, and Emma and Johnny manage to crawl out. I can too, but I see that no-one else is moving. Hannah is conscious, gasping. Blood is pouring out of her shoulder. And she's breathing in smoke. Michael is out for the count. And Tom... my brother, laying across me... Tom looks... Ok. I can feel panic setting in. I can't stop it. My phone is on the floor, flashing more images through it's cracked screen. I feel so scared, so horrified. Right. First - get people out. Slowly, I manoeuvre myself, and grab Tom by the shoulder. The smoke pouring in causes me to stumble. Everything stings. After a few minutes, I can stand on the door of the car and get Tom out of the other window. Johnny grabs him, lies him on the ground. Emma's made an energy-absorbing shield - grenades and bullets are bouncing off it in the other direction. Next - Hannah. I crawl into the front, and the smoke fills the car. I break the window Hannah is trapped against, trying to breathe, and try moving her. Something's caught her leg. "The steering wheel." I move the steering wheel to the right, and she shouts as it grinds against her. I keep going, my eyes pouring tears from the smoke and situation, and eventually, she's free. I crouch on the grass that's coming in where a window was before, and push the car up. It actually works. The cars doorframe moves about a foot off the ground, and I slide Hannah out. Johnny's managed to get Michael out. And, putting Hannah on the floor, anger envelops me. Something breaks. I lift my hands, and the officers, their cars, equipment all fly up. What am I doing...? I don't lower my hands. Everything flies higher, and I shout. "IF YOU PLAN TO KILL US, YOU CHOOSE THE WRONG GROUP." And I push my hands apart, instinct telling me to. Everything flies in a different direction away from us, crashing to the ground. And I finally have enough time to try healing Hannah and Tom. The smoke from the car gets to my lungs, and everyone else's. Coughing ensues. I end up falling on the ground, shaking. "Can I have the first aid kit, please?" I splutter, and Emma comes back with a charred box. She's scared of me. My mouth falls open. Which makes me cough. And the whole dramatic look of it is lost. I manage to retrieve a half burned bandage, sit upright and wrap it around Hannah's arm, but she screams when I touch her. Emma flicks her hand, and Hannah is suddenly unconscious. "Thanks" I mutter, and finish bandaging my sister. I try getting the non-blackened part over the wound, after putting antiseptic over the deep gouge. And now, Tom. He's bruised. Cut along his forehead. And his neck definitely shouldn't be bent in that direction. I sob, and my head bows. Someone else coughs. I turn. Police officer. I raise my hands immediately, Johnny already standing right next to the man. He drops his weapons immediately, and approaches from a few metres away. I drop my hands, and Johnny steps back. "I'm... I... Is..." The officer stammers. Looks to be about 25? Sounds English, maybe he's one of these imported officers to hunt down the Nova victims. I want nothing else but to show his face what a fist looks like buried into his nose. But suddenly, he reaches to my brother. No gloves. He looks almost emotional. Almost. He coughs again. "He's in a coma. I can try to help him, but I can't promise. And I'll have to take him with me, back to our clinic." Wait, WHAT? "You can't... He's..." I suddenly lose my anger. This guy is trying to help. He's human. I can tell that. No virus in him. And I realise that my brother stands no chance unless he goes with this man. So, after a few seconds of deliberation, I decide to let him go. "Ok. Take him. Do whatever you have to. Please." It ends up coming out as a whisper. And I sound way more helpless than I meant to. So, the man picks up my brother. Frail Tom. He walks to a car that landed a few metres away, and is surprisingly unharmed. Puts Tom in, drives off. I don't think any other Officers survived. And then, it's my group, alone, next to a burning car, two of us unconscious. Emma has her hands slightly raised. The car should have exploded, but she's saving us all. Well, as many as she could. Is this what life has become? Running, fighting, killing, war? And my phone, comforting as always. Still here, working. Still putting up photos, lying on the floor a few feet away. He's is worse shape than Tom in these photos. Bruised, cut, slashed, with craters over his body. He looks mad, and his eyes are part open. And in the latest post I've received, there's a short video. Of him, falling down in a house, guns aimed at him. Caption. Police officer, captured and being questioned about claims of child abuse, fighting against former colleagues. They have him. And they're 'questioning' him, about me and Hannah. I never knew questioning was torture. You learn something new every day. Why am I even thinking sarcastically? People are dying, my brother is in a coma and in the hands of the South African Police, and... and my... Well. Something is definitely wrong with me. In these photos... I want to scream. Kill these police. It's my Dad.